


All I Ask of You

by Timeless_Anarchy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/M, Gen, M/M, Rating may change-- I'm not sure yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 11:45:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12342051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timeless_Anarchy/pseuds/Timeless_Anarchy
Summary: James Buchanan Barnes, a childhood piano prodigy, was orphaned at the tender age of seven after his parents tragically died.Twelve years later he is still residing in the performance hall where he was placed.Now a skilled pianist he is still training under the tutelage of a mysterious man only known as the 'Opera Ghost'.





	All I Ask of You

The faint sound of laughter drifted up from the city streets below, making James feel quite alone.  
The thing is, he wasn't alone, he was never truly alone. Well, he felt he was at this moment; lingering in the rooftop courtyard at night could make one feel that.

James released the softest of sighs, resting his elbows on the rough stone of the barrier, looking over the city that still glittered with lights and came alive with the sound of laughter as late-nighters' stumbled around from pub to pub, or into each others' beds.  
It was nights like this that made him feel lonely. He'd never really left the Hall, and definitely not at night. He'd give poor old Pierce a heart attack if he returned in the early hours of the morning stumbling drunk like the group of people down below. Not to mention the Commander-- His teacher-- Would have him practicing piano until his fingertips bled and his fingernails bruised. It wouldn't be the first time he'd acted out and been punished as such.  
Now that the brunet thought about it, he probably shouldn't be out here this late. He was doing accompaniment for the Gala tomorrow night for the house diva, Loki. Though that man was one of their best crowd-bringers. Crowds brought money, so it wasn't all bad.  
What was going to be bad was if he was too exhausted to play, this was one of his first big debuts that he's had in awhile, most of his performances small interludes for the crowd during intermissions.

"What are you doing up this late? You know Pierce won't be happy with you up this late." James started at the soft, barely accented voice coming from behind him.

"I could say the same about you, Natalia. Does Madame Sarkissian know you're out of bed? I don't think she would appreciate her prized pupil wandering the halls at night." He turned, leaning back against the wall as he grinned towards the red-headed female.

"The only dangerous thing that wanders the halls at night is the 'Opera Ghost'," James frowned when Natalia gestured as if she was being sarcastic. "And he's not even real. Whatever you tried to tell me as a kid. Someone would have seen him by now. Besides.." She laughed softly, slowly pulling back her hair so the wind would not continue mussing it up. "You're about to intrude on a _very_ secret meeting." She advanced and poked James hard in the center of his chest. "So get moving, none of us have all night. Remember to forget seeing me here."

Stifling a snort, James stepped around Natalia, rolling his steely blue eyes as he began to back away, all the while giving Natalia a hard time. "Alright, alright. You're _totally_ not meeting the stable-boy. There's _no way_ you'd do something as brazen as that."  
A stone plinked harmlessly off of his shoulder, and James turned to see the aforementioned stable-hand leaning against the stone door-frame, bouncing another pebble around in his hand.

"That's correct, Barnes." The dark blond said, brushing past James. He looped an arm around Natalia's waist, his teeth shining white in the moonlight as he grinned towards James. "I was never here."

\--

James' room was not like the dormitories the ballet dancers shared, or any other performers for that matter, he got a solo one, farther from the chaos of the performances. He had resided at the performance hall for about twelve years and it paid off; Alexander Pierce, the owner and manager of it all, had plucked him out of an orphanage just days after his family was killed in a house fire, him being out of the house when the blaze started; his parents and siblings were not so lucky.  
James had been told that Alexander Pierce was an old family friend and he had no reason to not believe it. Yeah, he and the Commander were all pretty hard on him; even from day one they outlined and upheld all their expectations for him. There was no room for failure here.  
Alex, or Mr. Pierce around others, had sent a teacher to help him blossom in his pianist skills. Known only as 'The Commander" to James and the 'Opera Ghost' to the others, James was forbidden to talk about him to others. As far as anyone who wasn't James, Madame Sarkissian, or Alexander Pierce, the Opera Ghost did not exist.  
The Commander was real, though, he'd seem to materialize out of nowhere when it was time for James to sit down and endure a grueling two to three hour practice and start his lessons. Then he'd just.. Leave. James could never find him no matter how hard he would look.  
The Commander was only seen when he wanted to be, and that wasn't very often. He concealed his face with a hood, the shadows doing enough to keep his visage hidden.  
James didn't mind, he just figured that the Commander was someone who worked either in the performance hall or around it, and simply did not want to be seen.

James simply did what he was commanded to do and left it at that. It was easier that way.

He finally got back to his room, a rather large one that got most of its light from the wall of stained glass that faced the outside, a piano in the middle and a bed in the corner. James' favorite time to practice piano was when sunlight streamed through the glass, painting the room in a kaleidoscope of colors. Though, even in midday the light coming through never seemed to be at its full potential. He just assumed that it was just grimy on the outside and light wasn't being let in all the way. His room was fairly high up.  
Now the room was dark, the only light coming from the candle he was holding. James set it on the bedside table, slipping in between the heavy covers and settling down.  
Before he drifted off, James made sure to extinguish the flame beside him and glanced around to ensure that all other candles were cold. Once he was satisfied with the fact that none were smoking, he rolled on his side and slipped into the welcome comfort of sleep.

\--

As he rolled out of bed, James was still groggy and was taking his time to wake up and get dressed. Today was a big day for both him and the rest of the Hall, the annual Gala was being held that night and that meant he was going to be out there to impress. If he wasn't greeting people at the doors, then he'd be performing.  
Pulling on a pair of thick socks, James headed down to the kitchen to grab some food before he went down to practice a couple of pieces to make sure he was performance ready, just in case.

"It's about time you got up." Natalia was in the kitchen nibbling on a pastry, "Pierce's pretty heated that you've not come down earlier, apparently he wants you to accompany Loki in the Gala tonight." She gestured with the pastry in hand, "You already know that Loki's going to be pissed about sharing the spotlight, so I'd skip breakfast and get down to the stage. Here." Natalia tossed the half-eaten pastry to the stunned James, who barely caught it.

"Yeah.. Thanks." He said, instantly turning on his heels as he ran down the corridors to the stage, skidding to a halt before he made in onstage.  
Loki, the main performer in the Hall, was on stage practicing.  
No matter how arrogant Loki got or how many times James had to watch him perform, he was always caught off guard by the man's talent. His voice was clear, silky, and downright alluring, combined with the elaborate outfits he was given and the subtle ways he moved with the song made for an entrancing performance.  
As the last verses faded from where they seemed to hang in the air, James stepped out onstage, running a hand sheepishly through his hair; "Sorry, I guess I overslept." A bad excuse, but there was nothing else to say.

"You said you wanted me?" James turned his attention to Pierce who was standing idly by in the pit. "For the Gala?"  
Pierce held up a gloved hand, signaling for James to wait as he finished scanning over a letter, then looked up and nodded. "You'll be accompanying Loki and playing solo to give him some rest." James rolled his eyes as he heard Loki emit an indignant snort behind him.

"Thank you, sir." James said gratefully before directing his attention to Loki. "What songs have you chosen to sing? I need to know which ones I can accompany you on."

  
"None that you'll know." Loki said with an air of confidence, "But you can take a look." The black-haired male handed over a hefty stack of sheet music, which James began sifting through. Many of these pieces were difficult, not something he'd be able to play through at first glance.

  
_Good thing,_ James thought with a smirk, _That he had me practice these._ It had all made sense, why the Commander had instructed James drop the current pieces he was working on to practice the pieces he was now holding in his hands.  
"These shouldn't be a problem." He countered, returning the music while trying to match the air of confidence the singer exuded. As James went to sit on the piano bench, he saw there was another set of piano music neatly placed, matching what Loki already had. "Shall we take it from the top, then?" He questioned, setting out everything in front of himself.  
They practiced for a couple of hours before Loki tapped out, not wanting to wear out his voice before the show. James stayed, plinking away at the piano keys as he ran through a couple of songs he had memorized-- Songs he was going to use if he ever got to play solo at the Gala.  
  


"He's very proud, you know." James looked up from the piano to see Pierce leaning up against the body of the piano.

"And are you?" James asked, shuffling the music on the stand back into an organized, ordered pile, his gaze flicking back to Pierce, who was nodding.

"We'll be watching you closely, James, we expect the best." James straightened up, nodding to what Pierce was saying.

"I've never done anything less than my best." He said, "I won't disappoint."

"Good. Now go get something to eat, I have business I need to attend too." Pierce shooed James away, who then headed back down to the kitchen for his long-awaited breakfast, after changing into something more suitable, of course.  
It was about lunchtime by the time he got to sit down and eat. The kitchen was empty save for a couple of cooks and they weren't much good for conversation. He ate in silence, taking his time as he had a couple of hours to kill before he needed to begin getting ready.

He'd been working on this bowl of soup for about an hour before Natalia came bursting into the kitchen, her chest huffing softly with each breath. She must have been running.  
"Madame Sarkissian's given us free time 'til an hour before the Gala. Clint and I are going out to show Peter the town, do you want to come?"

James stood, understanding Natalia's rush. "And I've assume you've asked the Madame for permission?" A small quirk of the red-head's lips gave James all the information he needed and he cracked a grin, grabbing his overcoat and nodding. "Lead the way."

He followed Natalia, realizing how much more in shape she was compared to him as they ran together down the corridors to the front gate where Clint was waiting with a horse and cart.

"Barnes!" James let out a groan of frustration when Anthony 'Tony' Stark, the Hall's resident prop maker and repairman, snapped his name. The brunet had to look up to find the other, as he was busy hanging and securing a large sign for one of the Hall's upcoming ballets.

"What do you want?" He questioned, not trying to hide the annoyance he felt towards Anthony for stopping them. Normally he'd be civil, but he was trying to get some time outside the Hall, which was a very rare occurrence; it sometimes felt that Pierce and the Commander wanted to keep him holed up in the Hall forever. The brunet crossed his arms over his chest and stared up at Tony, screwing his steely blue eyes up against the sunlight that reflected off the windows of the building.

"You're either really brave or really stupid to sneak out before a show, especially if you're ;eading." James' frustration mounted as Tony continued to lecture him.

"Just 'cause your father helps fund everything doesn't mean that I have to take orders from you!" James spin on his heels towards the cart, "Besides, it's your boy-toy that's headlining this event, not me."

It was no secret that the younger Stark and Loki had something going on, though no-one really wanted to bring it up for fear of losing either Loki or Stark. It was the age difference that got to James and some of the others; as Tony was only a couple of years older than James himself and Loki had about a decade on the both of them.

"That's not what Loki's been sayin'." Tony countered, probably rolling his eyes as he sat in that stupid swing hanging that stupid sign.

"Of course he would, the man's a damn diva--!"

"James! C'mon." The brunet felt Natalia tug on his shirtsleeve, stopping him before he said anything he may come to regret. "The longer we stay the higher chance we have of getting caught."

"I think we already were." James said through gritted teeth, looking up at Tony still nailing away at the sign. He halfway hoped there would come a day where the ropes holding together that whole pulley system snapped with Stark in it... Not too far off the ground of course. He didn't want Tony dead-- Most of the time. "To hell with it, I don't care." He chuckled, "The worst he can do is tell and what..? They take me out of the performance rotation?" He snorted, "Pierce likes me to much for that. Let's go."

Without taking another glance at the man suspended above them, James got into the cart and settled down next to Peter. Natalia, naturally, sat up front with Clint.

James looked to the kid sitting next to him, making conversation to kill time. "Y'know, for such a scrawny kid.. You can move. Where'd you learn to do the silks? I haven't seen any classes like that around here. I can't say much, though.. I'm not exactly a socialite."

"My aunt signed me up for some back home, I got good fast." Peter said, an air of pride around him. "When I heard that they were looking for acrobats, I came by and showed them what I could do with the stage ropes."

"I saw that audition. Sarkissian even looked impressed, which is shocking.." Natalia grinned as she twisted around, "I never thought that woman could get impressed by anything."

"Well you don't see it everyday," James pointed out, stretching out in the back of the carriage. "Clint! Where the hell are you takin' us? Alex-- Pierce'll have my hide if I'm out too long before the performance.. Not to mention Loki'll have a heart attack if I'm late."

"No he won't," Clint replied, glancing behind him. "He'll be overjoyed if you've dropped off the face of the earth." Both James and Natalia nodded in agreement, knowing it was probably true.  
Loki didn't enjoy having his spotlight slowly stolen by James.  
Honestly, though, James didn't care for performing; but Pierce gave him a place to stay and food to eat, so all he had to do was plink out a tune once in awhile and he was allowed to stay. Plus, all his friends lived in the Hall, it's all he's known since he was seven.  
Playing the piano was a nice hobby, but the brunet never honestly imagined he could make a career out of it... He didn't know if he wanted to make a career out of it.

"You get to call him Alex?" Peter looked at James with the faintest hint of admiration glistening in his hazel eyes. Peter, like most of the performers and staff at the Hall, were intimidated, if not outright terrified by Alexander Pierce.  
James couldn't blame him, the man was certainly petrifying.. Especially if you were the subject of his disappointment or frustrations. Pierce didn't even have to raise his voice to command the attention of every individual around him-- The way he carried himself was enough.

"Yeah, I do." James shrugged off the question, not really wanting to pursue Peter's question further. He wasn't fond of re-telling the story of how he came to reside at the Hall and how he always seemed to be in the favor of the proprietor.

"Why?" The brunet internally cringed as the teen pushed the matter further, not put off by James' seemingly indifferent answer. He was spared the pain of answering when Clint pulled into the area designated for carriages, hopping off his perch as he tied off the horses and retrieved a bucket to top off the trough of water.  
Peter scrambled out after Clint, the commotion of the Market exciting him, causing him to mostly forget about his questions. He heard Natalia laugh softly, and he shrugged his shoulders helplessly at her.  
"Ready to go, madame?" James asked, the grin on his face as he held out a hand to help Natalia down filled with humor.  
Natalia rolled her eyes and flicked her auburn curls over her shoulder before she helped herself down, adjusting her dress and biting her lip to stave off a laugh as she turned her emerald gaze to the small barn that Clint was now walking out of.

"What are we standing around for?" James turned his attention to Clint, who was walking over to the trio. He too had to bite his lip to stifle a snort as he heard the soft 'squelch' of wet boots as Clint walked closer. He must have dropped the bucket of water on himself while ensuring the horses would be tended too. "We got a couple hours, tops, to look around.. Because some of us have important things to do." He gave a side-glance to James as he spoke, a small smile softening the words that weren't meant to bite in the beginning.

The brunet just gestured helplessly and huffed, "C'mon, let's go take a look around." A pang of hunger wracked his body as the smell of fresh-baked pastries bombarded his senses. He pushed ahead of the group, Natalia taking Clint's arm as they trailed behind, taking their time to look at all the wares. James, with very little money to his name, kept biding his time by keeping track of Peter. Between Peter's excited, and quick, walk and the never-ending sea of people, it was harder than James anticipated to keep an eye on the teen. Near the end of the circuit, James had come to the conclusion that he wasn't as fond of large crowds or loud people as he remembered; the brunet instructed Peter to come back to the entrance ten minuted before it was time to leave and he waited by the carriages gnawing a sweet-tasting nutty pastry that had been skewered on a stick.

Peter did as instructed, which James was thankful for, and patiently waited with him. James even gave Peter the last bit of the nutty pastry, not really wanting to finish it himself.  
"You get anything cool?" James questioned, eyeing the sack that Peter had laying on the ground beside them.  
The younger teen shrugged, "Just a few things to send back home-- Like this." He pulled out a thick, rounded candle that gave off a faint evergreen scent and held it out, "It smells when it burns. I think the craftsman put tree pines or sap inside of it?" The boy studied the candle for a moment before placing it back into the sack. James could see that Peter had bought more than a couple of candles.  
He fixed Peter with a questioning look, nodding towards the bag. "You're not going to be able to light all of those at once." Even the thought of more than three lit candles made his skin crawl, and the added scents wouldn't help his head.

"Oh! No." Peter smiled, cinching the bag shut as he spotted Natalia and Clint rounding the corner, Natalia wearing a beautiful black and red shawl around her shoulders. "My aunt loves candles, and I promised her I'd send something as soon as I got out of the Hall-- She's been sending me a small allowance and since I get fed, I don't really have anything else to spend it on."

"You get anything interesting, James?" Natalia cocked her head slightly as she looked at his empty hands, as he had thrown the stick out a little while back. She frowned when James shook his head, "What're you saving your money for? Your pay should be well enough that I'd thought you could buy at least something small!"

" _Pay_?" James and Peter both looked confused, and Natalia frowned, looking between the two of them.  
"Peter, you don't being your pay 'til you get out of your trainee stage.. As for you..." The red-head looked at James, "You.. Don't get paid? Like, at all?"  
"Not consistently." The brunet replied, "And not enough to buy more than.." He looked at Peter's bag, "A candle or two. And you know how I feel about anything with a flame." Natalia responded with a sympathetic nod, opening her mouth to say something else before Clint interrupted them.

"Ready to head out?" He held his hand out for Natalia to help her up, who accepted, as the other two piled into the back compartment of the carriage, Peter holding the sack tightly in his lap.

James rode quietly, opting to listen to the conversation between Peter, Natalia, and Clint rather than join in.

Apprehension began to settle in his stomach as the spires of the Performance Hall loomed in the distance, and the conversation and sounds of the city seemed to fade out. He knew, with the ball that weighed down in his stomach, that he was not going to be in Pierce's best favor.  
"Let me off at the gate." He requested as they all drew closer, interrupting whatever conversation the three others were in. "I gotta get back to practicing.."

"Sure thing." Clint nodded and snapped the reigns, spurring the two horses leading the carriage on, pausing quickly by the front gate nearest the main entrance to let James off.  
"Thanks!" The brunet called, stripping off his overcoat as he strode through the front doors into the main lobby. He headed down one of the corridors and into the main performance hall, where the piano was sitting to the side of the stage. He laid his overcoat on the piano bench and began to play, going back to the beginning of the piece whenever he made an error. Half an hour in and he was already beginning to get frustrated, it showed in his playing. His frustration gave way to a loss of focus of where his fingers landed, and the loss of focus gave way to more errors-- Which didn't help to sooth his frustration.  
About an hour in, an air of terseness seemed to fall over the room and James felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle.  
Even though the room was empty save for him, James knew he wasn't alone. He was never alone.

James stopped playing and ran a hand over the back of his neck and then through his hair, stilling his breathing for a moment to focus better on his surrounding. A flicker of movement caught his eye and his breath caught in his throat.  
He was here, the Commander.. The Phantom.. James felt the air growing heavy around him and the breath that was caught in his throat was extinguished, much like the small amount of candles at the piano. The stage was plunged into darkness, save for the flickering of the candles that edged the stage-- The light ending just before it reached the piano.

The brunet glanced around, his fingers still poised on the keys as if he was about to start the next section. He strained his senses, trying to figure out where exactly the Commander was. His shoulders jerked in surprise as a gloved hand clamped down on his left, fingers digging into his skin just below his collarbone-- Just enough to hurt, but not enough to bruise. James was sure the man could feel the pounding of his heart through the thick black glove he was wearing, so he took a couple of steady breaths to try and slow his pulse. He lifted his head, looking over the piano but never behind him, his shoulders squaring and tensing.

_I speak... You listen._  
_I command... You obey._

Those were the first words the Commander had spoken to a terrified seven-year-old James; who had only nodded in terror as he cowered beneath his bed-sheets, struggling to fight back tears.  
He came back about every night after that, speaking with James and sneaking in small trinkets and toys every now and again. He considered the Commander a friend, someone to talk with during hard times. Until he started back on the piano, then he learned that the Commander was not as much of a friend as he was a mentor.. A teacher. Someone to have a healthy fear of, but to trust.  
Everything the Commander does is to better James.. At least that is what he's been told.

"Almost ready for tonight." James' shoulders almost sagged with relief that the Commanders' tone was content, not disappointed. "Almost," James' mouth parched as his tone hardened and the grip on his shoulder grew even tighter. "You'd better keep on it, you lost a couple'a hours down at the Market. Should have been practicing. You need the practice, I can tell it here." He thrust a gloved finger past James' face and at the sheet music that was resting on the mantle of the piano, his finger found the spot where he kept making the same mistake over and over. "Sarkissian gave the dancers freedom until the hour before the Gala, correct?" The Commander did not give James a chance to respond, "You will practice here until twenty minutes before the Gala is due to begin, enough for you to ready yourself. Do you understand?" The Commanders' gravelly voice was low, cold, and the distaste on his tone chilled James to the bone. "And if you don't get this down, I'll make sure Pierce takes you out of rotation for all performances until I think that you're good enough that you can learn a piece of music." The Commander shook James' shoulder hard, still keeping him in that grip his knew was going to leave a mark. "Do. You. Understand. Me?" The brunet suppressed a shudder as he felt the Commander's breath hot on the back of his ear.

"Yes'sir." He replied softly, tilting his head down in the tiniest of nods. He bit the inside of his cheek so hard he thought he could detect the metallic tang of blood that was now slowly seeping from the inside of his cheek. "I understand. Stay here until I get things perfect." He slowly released the breath he had been inadvertently holding as he felt the Commander back off and his grip loosen to nothing but a weight resting on his left shoulder.  
"Good boy." James didn't realize that he was leaning into the Commander's touch as the mysterious male moved his hand from James' shoulder to his tousled brown hair, until the Commander was pulling away. He felt a swell of warmth in his chest at the words.

He could be good.

"Remember, I'll be watching." James barely had a moment to reply with a soft 'Yes sir' before the Commander was gone, seeming to simply melt into the shadows-- Never to be seen unless he desired it.  
James could feel the Commander's burning gaze on him, though he knew not where it was coming from.  
With a soft sigh, the brunet once again turned his attention to the piano in front of him, his stormy blue eyes scanning the page before he began to play; trying his best to not mess up.

He had to be good.

\------

A spotlight on the stage was illuminated, plunging the piano into an almost unbearable bright light. It took James a moment to become readjusted, having to furiously blink away accumulated tears. When he was finally able to see, James knew it was time for him to get ready, as he could hear the ballet dancers also preparing themselves backstage.  
He gathered his bundle of sheet-music and headed for his quarters to change into something more presentable.

James was relieved to see an ensemble already laid out on his dresser, a letter sitting propped up on a candlestick next to it. He ran his hand over the strange black paper, lightly touching the dark red wax that sealed the note. It was still the slightest bit warm and James had put a dent in the squid's head.  
Well, it wasn't officially a squid, but that's what James thought it looked like. Pierce had told him that it was meant to resemble a fearsome mythological monster, a Hydra, but the brunet had always laughed at the notion.  
After all, the Hydra had multiple heads while this seal was a skull atop six tentacles, it made no sense to James why it would be called a Hydra when it was clearly something else; but he'd given up trying to come up with a clever name for the creature in the wax and simply named it a squid.

He opened the letter, gray-blue eyes scanning the shining gold and scrawled lettering as he undressed and began pulling on the outfit that was laid out for him.  
It was a gift from Pierce, as the letter detailed, for good-luck and as a reward for tonight's performance.

James slowly pulled each article on, grimacing as his sore fingers fumbled to button on the overcoat. Taking a seat at the old wooden vanity, the brunet began lacing it boots, pulling the laces tight so the leather seemed to mold to his calves. As James stood, he watched himself in a dusty mirror, taking in his appearance.  
This particular outfit was quite magnificent, the sleek black overcoat hugged his slender frame, accentuated with deep red stitching-- Smoky gray buttons trailed up the middle, ending just above his collarbone. He paused and swallowed hard as he noticed a dark blot peeking out from underneath the collar of the overcoat, an ugly reminder of what could happen if he failed. James lightly touched the bruise, hoping the dark mark would not stand out too much against his pale complexion.  
He pulled the collar up a bit, happy to see that it would cover the mark well enough for it to be concealed from the crowd; he had to maintain a perfect appearance, after all.

And his perfect appearance continued in his flawless black pants that neatly tucked into his smooth calf-length leather boots that would probably have to be peeled off his legs with how tight he tied the laces.  
Natalia always scolded him whenever she noticed how tight his boots were tied, always saying something about blood not being able to get to his feet. James always laughed and shrugged her advice off, he liked the pressure on his feet-- It helped keep him grounded and focused.  
It was nice.

Knowing it was time to head to the stage, James gathered up the sheets of music he needed and headed for backstage. He gave a small smile and nod to Natalia, who was stuck over with Madame Sarkissian and the other dancers. Her face glittered with subtle red and gold accents in the lights as she grinned at him.  
Natalia's fiery red hair hung around her shoulders in soft curls, her makeup and outfit dark and intense, like the other dancers. However, in James' mind, Natalia fit the outfit perfectly, with both her hair and personality, she made the perfect flame.  
At least, that's what James assumed she was, he wasn't totally sure on the matter. He wasn't familiar with the ballet the dancers were taking their performance from, and likely wouldn't be, as Pierce liked to debut exclusive performances to entice the public to come to the Galas'.

James took his place beside Loki, suddenly feeling inadequate in his appearance, even with his sleek outfit.  
Loki always looked impressive out on stage, and right now was no exception. He seemed to shine in the light, more so than the dancers, and his shiny black hair was adorned with gold beads and rings.  
He stood tall, a commanding air about him that made James want to shrink and writhe under his piercing green gaze.

James glanced around, bored, as Pierce droned on with introductions-- Spacing out until Loki poked him hard in the back, nodding sharply towards the piano. He sat down and got himself properly situated, smoothing out the pages as he looked a the space where Loki would be standing... Only to find it empty.  
The dark-haired male had retreated backstage and was watching him from among the others. James felt a flash of anxiety seize his lungs and he nearly choked on air before he heard his name.  
"And now," It was Pierce addressing the crowd, "James Buchanan Barnes will be opening with the _Sixth Sonata_!"

James' clenched his jaw as he fumbled for the Sonata, eyes widening as he realized it was not in the pile of music he had brought down. With a sharp exhale of breath, the brunet shuffled together the remaining pieces and placed them on the bench beside him, straightening up and getting into the proper position just as the curtain was brought up. He was grateful that the Commander had made him work on memorizing this particular piece.  
He had to force himself from screwing up his eyes at the bright lights and focus on what he was doing. He took a deep breath and quickly scanned the crowd, giving them a small grin before he began to play.  
His slender fingers seemed to dance over the keys as he lost himself in the music, his body moving with the notes. James looked over the crowd once more, then looked for Natalia backstage.  
Instead of meeting her emerald green eyes, he met sky blue ones from a large blond who was leaning against a wooden pillar backstage. His thick arms were crossed over his broad chest as he watched with muted admiration.  
James' fingers stilled, as did the breath in his chest and the beat of his heart.  
Flashes of memory from before the performance hall hit him like a horse-- Forts in the attic... Exploration and skinned knees in the woods. He hadn't seen this man in about twelve years and, yet, James knew exactly who it was.  
Steven Grant Rogers.  
Even though the man leaning against the pillar was built like the trees they used to climb (or, attempt to climb) and nowhere near the scrawny, sickly seven year old he used to be, the mischievous glint in those baby blues were the same, not to mention the powerful and borderline defiant way he held himself.  
James had only realized he was no longer playing when Steve's expression changed from impressed to confused. He tilted his head as if to ask what he was doing, and James picked right back up where he'd left off, quickly glancing to the crowd to ensure that nobody thought the stop was anything other than a pause in the music. It seemed as if no person had caught on, and James was relieved.  
The rest of the song passed with him in a daze, his fingers moving simply out of muscle memory. Once he was finished, the brunet headed straight for where he saw Steve the first time, disappointed to not find the male.  
He glanced around in bewilderment before a large figure bumped into him; he turned around in excitement only to realize that he'd gotten in the way of Thor, who was Loki's older brother and one of the best work-hands around.

"Did you hear anything about a new guy joining?" He questioned, reaching out and snagging Thor's arm. "Tall, blond, blue eyes?" James struggled to keep his voice casual, but he felt that he did not do too good of a job to conceal his desperation.  
Thor pursed his lips and nodded, "Ah yes, Steven." He said, adjusting his grip on a rather large prop. "Pierce will be introducing all the new work-hands over dinner, you will get to meet him then. Now," The long-haired blond hefted the prop over his shoulder, "I must get this set up before the dancers come out."  
"Thank you." James said quietly, feeling his heart swell in his chest. He missed his old home.. But now it appeared he'd get a piece of it back.

  
The rest of the Gala passed with a blur, James having to end the night accompanying Loki on the piano and he had to wait a frustratingly long time after the song was over to leave the stage, as the Nord had quite a bit of fans and the applause seemed never-ending.  
Once the audience's enthusiasm ceded and the curtain's dropped, James went straight for his room to get changed for dinner, hoping that if he got ready early, then the meal would come faster.  
James didn't have to wait that long.  
As he pulled on a simple white shirt, there was a soft knock at the door.  
"Yeah?" The brunet called, still caught a bit in the fabric. He struggled with the shirt, managing to get it over his head just as the door opened. He felt his mouth parch. "..Steve..." He said softly, heart leaping in his chest as the blond entered the room, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

  
"Hey'a, Buck. It's been a while." Steve replied, smiling gently.


End file.
